


second wind

by leighleleigh



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Contrary To Popular Belief Dimitri Is The Kinky One, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, no beta we die like men, student athletes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21551164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighleleigh/pseuds/leighleleigh
Summary: Dimitri lingers in the locker room after a meet. His patience is rewarded.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 23
Kudos: 370





	second wind

Dimitri is still wiping sweat from the back of his neck, the towel rubbing raw against the aching sunburn on his skin, when the door to the locker room slams open with a deafening crack against the cement wall. 

Dimitri shifts closer to his locker as a group of students spill inside, voices loud and laughter echoing off the walls. He’s sorry to see the peaceful atmosphere go, especially after such a draining meet, but a glance at the uniforms has a small part of Dimitri perking up. Privately, Dimitri has always thought the swim team uniform has an unfortunate color scheme: dull green and mustard gold. It’s hard to wear those colors with pride. Dimitri isn’t overly invested in fashion, but even he can tell the shades clash horribly. 

He watches the team inconspicuously. Dimitri’s locker is larger than most, thanks to his status as team captain, so most of the swim team members disappear down other rows to where their own lockers are. Only Gloucester remains in Dimitri’s row. He isn’t the swim team’s captain but he does head the water polo team when they’re in season. He offers Dimitri a cordial nod before he gathers a travel-size caddy of shampoo and soap and heads into the bowels of the locker room where the showers are located. 

Thanks to the disproportionate amount of wealthy students attending GMU, the facilities are huge, recently remodeled, and well-designed. The locker rooms are no exception, providing plenty of room rather than the claustrophobic spaces Dimitri has experienced when visiting other schools. Dimitri can barely hear the cluster of showering students from where he stands, and after a few moments, the atmosphere grows peaceful again. 

Dimitri waits for a few more moments, eyes on the door, before his shoulders fall. That must be the last of them, then. Not the whole team, but then some students prefer to head straight to the dorms after practice rather than dally in the athletic complex, especially if they have work to do. Dimitri himself has skipped post-practice showers in favor of rushing back to his room to finish a term paper or two in the past. 

He sits on the bench in front of his locker to change out of his running shoes. His uniform jacket hangs over his open locker, his sweats stuffed deep in his duffel bag where they won’t see use until the temperature drops. His shorts ride up his thighs as he finishes knotting the laces of his daily tennis shoes. He stands again, smoothing them down a few times, but they don’t go far. 

As Dimitri places his running shoes in his locker, the main door to the room slams open again. He jerks in surprise, shaken out of his routine once more, and looks over. Claude von Riegan strides inside, bare feet slapping loudly against the concrete floor. Dimitri is pleasantly surprised to see him enter, though he’s more surprised to see him arriving alone and so far behind the rest of his team members. The swim team isn’t as close-knit as the track team, but the members tend to herd around the captain like rambunctious ducklings, not overly fond but never far. Dimitri has a whole list of platitudes he has to run through just to get his team to leave the locker room without him. 

“Hey,” Claude greets, taking his place next to Dimitri. For the last year, their lockers have been beside each other. 

“Hello,” Dimitri says politely. He faces his own locker, trying not to watch from the corner of his eye, but … 

Well, he tries not to stare, but when it comes down to it, Dimitri is only human. 

As always, Claude’s profile is striking. He’s balancing his weight on one heel, the toes of his other foot barely touching the ground, a pose that shows off the toned lines of his legs. His torso is cut sharply by the dip of his waist, the slightest roll of skin at the bend of his hip a charming contrast to the firm muscles of his back and shoulders. 

Of course, most of Dimitri’s focus is dragged  _ down _ . During official meets, Dimitri has seen Claude shimmy himself into skin-tight leggings that match the drab colors of the swim team’s banner. 

Today is not one of those days. 

Today, Claude has squeezed into a simple black speedo, and Dimitri  _ cannot _ for the life of him look away. It clings to Claude’s skin, obscenely tight across the round curve of his buttocks. Dimitri isn’t sure such a thing can even be considered clothing, much less how it can be considered appropriate for official practice. How does it not fall off when Claude is in the water? How can Claude strut around the pool and face his team in a … a  _ swim thong?  _

Dimitri has to duck his head at that thought, ears burning with shame. 

“Sunburn?”

Dimitri snaps his head up so fast he nearly gets whiplash. Claude is still facing his locker, but there’s an upward twist to his lips that suggests he’s talking to Dimitri. Of course, with only the two of them left in the changing area, who else could he be speaking to? 

“I’m sorry?” Dimitri says. 

“Sunburn,” Claude turns now, facing Dimitri with his vibrant eyes. He lifts his hand and Dimitri feels two fingers slide beneath his towel and skim across his neck. “Here,” Claude says, then moves his fingers again, tracing the tip of Dimitri’s ear boldly. “And here.” 

Dimitri can only stare, heat traveling from his ears to his face. It burns through his cheeks and down his neck, as red as a siren against his pale skin. 

This is how Dimitri snaps: with Claude grinning at him, eyes twinkling, fingers worrying the rim of his ear. This is how Dimitri breaks: the sway of a braid as Claude turns his head, the hint of a dimple at the small of Claude’s back, the smell of chlorine stinging his nose. 

He grabs Claude by the arm and spins, leading them briskly through the locker room. They pass the entrance to the shower area, where laughter echoes off the walls, and round the corner at the end of the hall. 

Here there’s an empty shower cubicle set apart from the rest, a last remnant of the old floor plan before GMU expanded and renovated the athletic complex. It’s fully functional but largely unused. These days it’s something of a clandestine spot for students to hook up with one another. 

Dimitri pulls them inside it, then pushes Claude against the cubicle wall, caging him in with an arm on either side of his shoulders. He has several inches on Claude, broader shoulders, a wider torso. Normally, Dimitri tries to make himself seem smaller, hoping not to intimidate those around him, but Claude has always seemed to like that Dimitri is bigger than him, and in turn, Dimitri has started to like it a bit too. 

Claude blinks up at Dimitri in surprise. He puts his hands on Dimitri’s hips, though, and rests his head against the wall. Dryly, he asks, “So this is what does it for you, huh?” 

Dimitri has the decency to feel scandalized, but not to drop his arms. “Claude!” 

Claude laughs, squeezing Dimitri’s hips. “Sorry, sorry.” He stretches out his foot, overlapping his toes with the rounded tip of Dimitri’s shoe. It’s a tender gesture, one that makes Dimitri think of coffee dates and playing footsie beneath tables in the library. “This does it for me, too, you know.” 

“What?” Dimitri nearly rolls his eyes, but he’s always been taught that it’s rude. Claude is only placating him, now. “A uniform that’s too small for me?”

“Uh, yes?” Claude grins. No, this time it’s a smile — his real smile. “The way you roll up these sleeves?” He pulls on one of the balled-up sleeves of Dimitri’s track jersey. “Not to mention  _ these _ .” Claude drops his hands to grip the fabric of Dimitri’s track shorts. “It should be illegal for you to show your thighs. I mean, do you even have a permit?” 

Dimitri can’t help but laugh, though Claude’s joke is truly terrible. “Claude—.” 

“I could talk about your calves,” Claude continues, “but I think we both know I’m more partial to your ass--” 

“ _ Claude _ ,” Dimitri says again, cheeks red when Claude’s fingers sneak around to pinch in appreciation. 

Claude laughs again. Dimitri doesn’t even have it in himself to care — Claude can laugh at him all day if he sounds like that when he does it. It’s not the snickering Dimitri hears when Claude is amused by something their classmates have done, nor is it the dry chuckling that follows an awkward silence. It’s real; a delighted giggle that shakes his shoulders and crinkles the corners of his eyes. 

Dimitri used to pretend to sigh when Claude laughed at him, but he doesn’t even do that anymore. He likes the idea of Claude knowing how much Dimitri likes to hear him laugh. He likes the idea of Claude knowing everything about him. 

Claude stretches his back against the wall. He reaches up to put his arms around Dimitri’s shoulders, crossing them loosely behind his neck. “It’s aerodynamic.” 

Dimitri doesn’t follow the sudden shift in conversation. “What?” 

“The suit,” Claude says. “It’s aerodynamic.” 

Dimitri stares at him, feeling a bit like his head is full of molasses. He thinks Claude is poking fun at him again, but he feels like he can’t connect the dots. “...So it’s strategic?” 

“Of course,” Claude says lightly. Then, slyly, he grins. “Why else would I be wearing it?” 

Dimitri’s mouth twitches. “Did you know I had a meet today?” He feels slightly egotistical for asking, but he hopes that’s the case. Shock aside, the idea of Claude strutting around in this on the off-chance they might run into each other … it’s a thrilling thought. 

“Yes,” Claude replies bluntly.

“You’re incorrigible.”

Claude smirks. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says.

Dimitri shakes his head. He doesn’t tell Claude not to. Incorrigible on most would rub Dimitri the wrong way, but he likes Claude’s cheeky attitude. He likes that Claude says what he’s thinking, even if it’s usually something that will make Dimitri flush. 

Kissing Claude seems like the perfect resolution to their conversation, so Dimitri does. He ducks his head to press their mouths together, moving his hands from the wall to Claude’s hips, blunt nails sliding and curling against the nylon fabric of his suit. 

Dimitri likes kissing Claude. He’s still a bit giddy that he gets to. Claude hums when Dimitri pushes his tongue past his lips. Dimitri can feel him grin against his mouth before he loses himself in the way Claude feels against him. 

They trade deep, sensual kisses for a time. Dimitri is all but crushing Claude to the wall, unwilling to allow any space between them. He barely pulls back each time they break for air, his lips still brushing against Claude’s before he presses forward again. He devours the little satisfied sighs that Claude makes, the hums, the tiny moans. His world is nothing but Claude: the warmth of his skin, the taste of him, the smell of chlorine on his skin. 

When Dimitri finally pulls away, Claude’s lips look swollen. Dimitri is sure his own look the same. Claude licks his lips slowly, the glint in his eyes heated as he stares at Dimitri through his lashes. Dimitri is intimately familiar with this look. 

He glances down. 

The heat in Dimitri’s chest drops straight to his gut as desire surges anew through his veins. Claude’s cock has filled and curled up against his stomach, the shiny tip of it peeking out from the waistband of his suit. Dimitri almost groans at the sight. 

_ Hot _ . 

Dimitri can wax poetic all he likes, but that’s the blunt truth of the matter. When Dimitri sees Claude like this, he feels like a fumbling teenager instead of the competent young adult that he’s become. 

Even now, Dimitri feels slightly incredulous at the way his own arousal surges at the sight of Claude’s cock peeking above his suit. Dimitri huffs a humid breath across Claude’s collar, resting his forehead there so he can watch. He rubs his thumb over the wet slit, smearing slick across the flushed head. Claude’s breath hitches above him, a moan stuttering out before he manages to reign himself in. 

“Careful,” Dimitri says, but it doesn’t sound like him at all. He’s never known himself to sound so heated, so sly. “You don’t want anyone to hear you.” 

Claude makes an interestingly strangled sound in his throat. “I can’t—” He cuts himself off when Dimitri squeezes the wet head of his cock. 

“Quiet,” Dimitri says. 

Claude laughs breathlessly, ignoring Dimitri’s warning. “Guess I should wear these more often, huh?” He shifts his hips, rocking forward so his cockhead slides through Dimitri’s loose grip. Dimitri tightens his fingers in response, dipping beneath Claude’s suit so he can pump his hand properly. 

Claude’s words stir up heated images in Dimitri’s mind. He pictures Claude stretched out over his lap, erection peeking out of the skimpy suit. He pictures himself tugging the material out of the way, too eager to get his fingers inside Claude to undress him properly. He pictures Claude coming messily into the suit with a lovely, broken cry. 

Dimitri wants to do all of that now, but the dorms feel a world away, and as much as he feels shaky with desire, he isn’t going to properly fuck Claude in this bleak shower stall. He stubbornly believes Claude deserves better than that. 

Still, his resolve wavers when Claude reaches between them to pull the nylon down to his thighs, freeing the rest of his cock. Dimitri is almost disappointed -- there’s a large part of him that finds the idea of Claude being trapped in his suit, wet and aching with nowhere to go, appealing. 

It’s probably for the best. They need to finish this quickly, before Dimitri can’t help himself anymore and really  _ does  _ take Claude against the wall. 

He presses himself as close to Claude as he can get, shoes knocking against bare feet. He apologizes under his breath as he presses close-mouthed kisses against Claude’s collarbone. He feels rather clumsy in times like these. Claude never complains, but Dimitri often finds himself jealous of how graceful Claude manages to stay under pressure. 

He can tell Claude is nearing the edge by the way his breathing changes. It hitches in his throat and starts to come out in broken little pants. Dimitri’s hand works over Claude’s shaft quickly, a slide made easier by the slick leaking from his tip. Claude always gets so wet so easily. Dimitri finds it maddeningly attractive. 

Without thinking, Dimitri moves his free hand to cover Claude’s mouth and presses down hard just as he goes tense all over. With a muffled moan Dimitri is sure would have been heard otherwise, Claude comes. 

He strokes Claude through it, the wet slide of his hand getting wetter as Claude’s hips jerk and his cock continues to produce little spurts of cum until it’s totally spent. Claude’s release lands mostly on his own skin, given the angle Dimitri is stroking him at, but what doesn’t coats Dimitri’s fingers. Claude shudders as Dimitri continues to twist and squeeze along his sensitive cock, whimpers still muffled by Dimitri’s hand. 

When Claude comes down, he exhales slowly through his nose, cool air fanning down Dimitri’s fingers. His eyes flutter open, glassy green framed by heavy lashes. He wraps his fingers around Dimitri’s wrist, but he doesn’t push the hand away from his mouth. He holds on instead, dragging his tongue across the warm skin of Dimitri’s palm. 

Heat shoots down Dimitri’s spine. He wastes no time in shoving his own shorts down around his thighs so they’re out of the way. His erection springs free, a strand of precum stretching and snapping as it goes. He wraps his dirtied hand around himself, twisting his hand in rough, familiar motions that serve to bring him off quickly. 

Dimitri has to clench his teeth to keep himself from groaning. He nudges his cockhead beneath Claude’s softened cock, jerking himself to unsteady completion and spilling across the inside of Claude’s thighs and the stretched fabric of his swimsuit. He strokes himself until it teeters on the wrong side of pleasurable pain, then drops his hand to grip one of Claude’s thighs. He lowers the hand covering Claude’s mouth slowly, but only so far as to rest it at the juncture of his neck. 

He pants quietly against Claude’s skin, the subtle embarrassment that is sure to come still a ways off. He looks up when Claude nudges his chin and is treated to a sweet, slow kiss. 

They share a few more lazy kisses as they collect themselves. Dimitri trails his hands down Claude’s sides, hooking his fingers beneath the rolled-up sides of the suit and dragging it back up. It’s a little filthy and beyond possessive, but the idea of Claude walking back to the dorms with Dimitri’s spend in his suit instead of helping him clean up is too appealing to resist. 

He lets Claude reach out to pull his track shorts up and tuck him back in. It doesn’t feel odd -- a greedy part of Dimitri likes being taken care of this way. He busies himself with tracing the waistband of Claude’s suit in the meantime, not dipping under, only thinking about what he knows is beneath. 

Claude speaks first, mouth twitching into a smile as he says, “I really do need a shower now.” 

Dimitri hides his face in Claude’s neck, embarrassment finally catching up with him. “...Don’t do it here?” He says, hoping the suggestion sounds casual. He hates the idea of Claude joining the rest of his team after this; hates the possibility of any one of them looking over and seeing evidence of what Dimitri’s done to him. That sight isn’t for anyone else. 

“Definitely not,” Claude says easily. 

Dimitri rubs the back of his neck. He feels the sting right away and winces. Right. Sunburn. He drops his hand, still feeling sheepish as he looks at Claude. He’s starting to realize how incredibly risky his actions have been now that his arousal has been sated. Claude’s teammates are showering just down the hall. One of them, or any other member of the student body -- or, gods forbid, the  _ faculty  _ \-- could have rounded the corner in search of supplies. 

Is this really all it takes to break him? Deft fingers ghosting along the rim of his ear? 

“I don’t have a change of clothes,” Claude says, interrupting Dimitri’s spiraling thoughts. “Let me borrow yours?” 

“...They won’t fit,” Dimitri says hesitantly. He’s also fairly certain Claude is lying. All student athletes keep a standard tracksuit in their locker. Of course, Claude’s  _ is  _ that ugly mishmash of color. Dimitri thinks Claude looks good in everything he wears, but he can’t blame him for wanting to wear someone else’s. 

“So?” Claude grins a bit. “That’s what drawstrings are for.” 

Dimitri ducks his head. “You can.” 

Claude chuckles and pushes off the wall. He gives Dimitri a loose, one-armed hug around the waist, anchoring to his side just long enough to press an unnecessarily dramatic kiss to the side of his jaw. “Thanks, babe.” 

Dimitri exhales sharply through his nose. For as long as they’ve been dating, Claude has been trying to pin down a pet name on him. He dislikes this one less than most, but he still isn’t a fan.

Claude leads them back down the hall to the main area of the locker rooms. He doesn’t try to sneak past the entrance to the showers, but no one seems to notice their team captain or Dimitri pass by, too caught up in their own conversations. Dimitri’s bag is right where he left it, unzipped on the bench in front of his locker, and Claude wastes no time digging through it. He extracts Dimitri’s track pants and shimmies them on quickly, pulling the drawstring tight and knotting the string. He pulls the jacket off Dimitri’s open locker as well, but leaves it unzipped, letting it hang off his shoulders coquettishly. 

Dimitri sighs, looking pointedly away. He’s already been seduced once today. He isn’t going to let it happen a second time. Not here, anyway. 

Claude is quick to pack his own things, retrieving his bag from his locker and slipping on his pull-on shoes. He shakes his hair out, still damp from practice, and smiles up at Dimitri from the bench. “Waiting for me?” 

Dimitri crosses his arms. “Of course.” 

Claude chuckles again, though this time it sounds a bit giddy. Dimitri zips his own bag and puts it over his shoulder. Claude stands and reaches down, but Dimitri beats him to it, tugging Claude’s bag off the bench and making his way to the door. 

Dimitri hikes Claude’s bag over the same shoulder as his own, pointedly ignoring the grin Claude is burning into his back. He knows Claude thinks these little acts of chivalry are unnecessary, but … well, he can’t help himself. He likes knowing there are things he can do for Claude, no matter how small they are. He likes carrying Claude’s bag. He likes showing up to their coffee dates early so he can order Claude’s usual for him. He likes tidying up the catastrophic amount of books that litter the floor of Claude’s dorm room. 

Claude catches up to Dimitri’s long stride easily, slipping his hand into Dimitri’s with a squeeze. Dimitri squeezes back without looking at him. He revels in the feeling of Claude’s warm palm against his. 

“We should go get coffee,” Claude says. 

“Don’t you have classwork to do?” Dimitri certainly does. 

“Yeah.” Claude nudges their shoulders together. “But I want to spend more time with you.” 

It’s a touch irresponsible, but Dimitri won’t pretend he doesn’t want the same thing. He lets Claude take the lead, changing their course from the dorms toward the on-campus cafe. He gives in easily, but that’s okay. He doesn’t mind so much when it’s Claude he’s giving in to. 

**Author's Note:**

> .   
> .  
> .  
> .  
> I don't know if I'll write more of this series -- I don't really have other ideas that could be a solid story, but here are some misc notes to the au. Dimitri and Claude are the captains of their respective sports teams. Claude attends some of Dimitri's meets and when he does he wears his uniform jacket. Dimitri met Claude in line at the student cafe and has been besotted ever since. They share an early-bird seminar. They both have healthy sexual appetites but Dimitri is much kinkier than one would assume and his thoughts tend to lean toward possession and ownership during sex. He is usually embarrassed of these thoughts after. He's been learning with Claude's help that having kinks is okay. 
> 
> this is really just kind of filthy. i have no excuse nor plot. wcyd. *shrug emoji*


End file.
